The Pearl/Volume 6/THE BUDDING ROSE.

(These lines were written to amuse a girl of fifteen. They delighted her mother.) Wonderful are Cupid's arts! He, the god of soft persuasion, At his pleasure stirs our hearts. To flames of eager passion.

Long I've loved thee, darling Sarah. Gradually more ripe and blooming; Daily, hourly, plumper, fairer, In the swelling charms of woman.

Sarah, when I saw you first. In the church, at sister's side; Oh my heart, with ardour burst! Could I call thee once my bride!

But your father is my foe, Hating me, so long his friend; Could he once my passion know, In thy misery it might end.

But a bonnet and a fan Are slight tokens of my passion; Such a girl for such a man Is a fatal strong temptation.

Happy bonnet! that can cover, Such a darling, maiden-head; Happy fan! - a vigorous lover Should be in your hand instead!

Yesterday you were a child, Now a blooming blushing virgin; Female passions warm and wild Are to actual pleasure urging.

Mr. B- was very cruel, "Virtue was at last rewarded," He obtained the mossy jewel. Pamela so long had guarded.

Fancy them in bed (and lying, She beneath, and he above; Kissing, cuddling, fainting, dying, In the ecstasies of love!)

Though he is a horrid sinner, Pamela forgives the crime, In again! again he's in her! Drinking pleasures quite divine!

See! his amorous lips and hands Fondle all her naked part; And his upright vigour stands, In her open ravished heart.

Shirt and shift are off together, Naked is the sweet embrace; Not one part's concealed by either, All's as naked as your face.

Even her modest brother Joseph, Joseph Andrews with his Fanny; When they once had got their clothes off, Had as little shame as any.

Such, dear Sarah, was the pleasure, Pamela at last enjoyed; Take them in their fullest measure, Kissing never, never cloyed.

Oh, if I could once behold you, Lying (naked on my bed); In my arms I would enfold you, I would (take your maidenhead!)

Sarah, live to love and pleasure, Careless what the grave may say; When each moment is a treasure, Why should lovers waste a day?

Setting suns may rise in glory, But, when little life is o'er, There's an end of all the story, We shall live and love no more!

Give me then, ten thousand kisses, Give me all thy blooming charms; Give me heavenly, melting blisses. Lying naked in my arms! A philosophical dandy thus vented his musings upon Copulation: "The idea is old; the attitude queer; and the motion fully ridiculous; but all tends to the acme of felicity."